


City of Dreams

by FrenchBlue32



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Original Character(s), Melancholy, Not Beta Read, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Original Female Character, Personification of Death, Scents & Smells, Strawberries, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchBlue32/pseuds/FrenchBlue32
Summary: Delmere arrives in the City of Dreams and walks the lonely road away from home.---Writing Prompt: "Death" "Strawberry" "City"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	City of Dreams

She knows where she is the moment she arrives with a briefcase of contents that aren’t particularly noteworthy. Delmere doesn’t quite know what’s actually inside them, but she gets the feeling that she doesn’t really need to. The briefcase is the typical, sepia brown, its handle latched to the body by faux, gold plates. Leather plasters the outside of the briefcase in the same way the rushing sensations of the City of Dreams cocoons Delmere’s heart in an indescribable cool warmth. It’s an unsaid cognizance that there are antique photos and roughened memorabilia fused into the grooves of the outside material, the same kind of cognizance that one would expect thread would be sewn through the briefcase’s fabrics.

Delmere takes steps forward into the City of Dreams. The rush now overpowers whatever vague comforts the briefcase entraps. She forgets about them, losing herself into the overwhelming amount of sights brimming with surreality.

It’s a city. It is not completely unlike other cities. The skyscrapers stretch into obscurity, and the architecture glimmers in otherworldly reflections. Yet, what differentiates it is sheer. Delmere continues to walk through the city, one of modern architecture with vines prodding through marble crevices and steel beams, as if Mother Nature wants to reclaim its rightful place.

Where glass meets metal frames is where Delmere notices the vines breaking through the harshness of human touch. Delmere squints at the abundances of green stems crisscrossing buildings indiscriminately, and she realizes the gentle breeze coursing through the city blocks waft the scent of strawberries.

Delmere finally takes a look skyward. It is simply light. There are no baby blues or cotton clouds. There is no uniform gray or radial sun. The light pulses in varying intensities with no distinguishable patterns. Pastel wisps dance around one another. Prisms fracture into kaleidoscopic scatters. It makes Delmere’s head spin, so her head involuntarily tilts back down.

Feeling directionless, Delmere lets herself be guided by the course of the strawberry-scented breeze. The further she gets, the more she feels like she’s drifting down the middle of the street rather than like she’s walking, despite her feet never leaving the ground.

A clash of scents suddenly engulfs her. Delmere stands at the edge of an intersection. From her left, she can hear the ring of sirens fading in and out. Delmere gags when she swivels her head in the direction of the sound. She drops to her knees, overwhelmed by strong smells and images. With as much haste as she can muster, Delmere drags herself in the opposite direction, where the scent gradually returns to sweetness. She’s struggling to pick herself up when she hears her name being called. It floats in the air, reaching out to her, but it falls a few paces behind her.

Delmere stills, now standing. Despite the overpowering scents that she had been invaded by from the left, the call of her name tugs at her. She stands far enough away from the left intersection, to where she can now pinpoint the many scents that seem to ooze into the other streets in waves. Even though she has her back to the other street, the smells are indisputable.

She smells smoke. She smells fire. She smells blood. She smells metal.

There are hints of danger and dashes of sorrow in the stench. There are also fragments of carnage and pieces of passing in the aroma.

Delmere finds herself leaving it all behind. She knows she can’t go back.

It smells like a final moment. It smells like Delmere.

The handle of the briefcase weighs heavy in Delmere’s hand. She continues onward because that’s the only thing she can do.

Something begs Delmere to look up, and she immediately spots a slit in the lit sky opening up. For a second, she can see what’s behind the blanket of light. What she sees startles her in a way that makes her stomach flip in every which direction. Dark violet and black is pierced by lines of slow moving cosmic colors. It stretches and slithers ways she can’t comprehend. Before her head can spin again, the light smooths over itself when the silhouette of a girl shoots down in a flash of white.

Delmere barely catches a glance of a pink and white patterned skirt before the girl flitters away. The girl appears similar to Delmere’s age.

She conjures an image in Delmere’s head of summer dresses, often with dotted and floral prints. Delmere sees the hem of the dress flowing in the wind, waving in pink and strawberry patterns.

Delmere follows the girl. As she does, a steady stream of images continue to materialize before her in intervaled hazes. She sees rows of green hiking up ceilings toward fluorescent lights within grey and white walls. She sees courtyards with geometric plots of agriculture carved into beige, brick pavilions. Most prominently, she sees ripened strawberries hanging from vines matching the pleasant scent swimming all around her. They’re pebbled across the labyrinth of city vineyards in her home city, and they seem to have overran Delmere’s City of dreams. She doesn’t mind that this is what the City of Dreams gifts her with. In fact, she thinks it’s as fitting as it could possibly get.

No matter how much Delmere speeds up to try and catch up with the girl silhouetted by white, the girl always seems to be the same frustrating distance away from her. The girl shrouded by white weaves in and out of allies, ducks into side streets, and pops out into widened streets again. Realizing the distance between them will never change, Delmere resigns herself to walking again, noticing that slowing down also causes the girl to slow down, too.

Eventually, the girl makes a sharp turn towards a building. When Delmere makes the turn that the girl did, the silhouette disappears through a door as if it weren’t even there. Delmere feels her feet plant themselves to the spot when she sees where the silhouette entered into. There is no sign indicating what the little store could be, but something tells Delmere that there’s no mistaking what the store is. Delmere changes to holding the briefcase with both of her hands, now situated to her front. She brings it as close as she can to her body, and with bated breath, she fights the melancholic reluctance that calls her to stay just a little longer. See the sights of the City of Dreams just a little longer. Explore the landmarks here just a little longer.

Delmere enters. A gentle chime greets her entrance from a silver bell hanging above. A smoothie shop is laid out before her. The menu behind a single man working the counter is as blurred and empty as the storefront outside, but she doesn’t need one to know what she’s going to order. The man looks up with a welcoming smile. His eyes twinkle with soulfulness, almost doleful. A name tag pinned to his shirt reads the name, “Aeron.” Delmere approaches the counter.

“Are you ready?” The man named Aeron asks.

“Is your name actually Aeron, mister?” Delmere replies. The man chuckles at her.

“If that is what the name tag reads, then I guess it is.”

Delmere nods, although the man isn’t entirely sure she understands what he meant. He assumes that she’s old enough to understand the situation related to it at least.

“I’m ready to order, mister Aeron,” Delmere finally says.

The man hums. “And what is it that you would like to order?”

Delmere says with pride, “My family’s special.”

“An O’Brien Strawberry Smoothie?”

Delmere beams into her stretched out cheeks.

“Only the freshest strawberry smoothie in the world! For the long road, away from home.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this was just something I wrote cause I had been feeling anxiety and doubtful about my writing again. Decided I'd try to do some writing practice with something original, and this was born. I don't really expect anyone to read it, but if you do, thanks and leave some feedback if you'd like :)
> 
> I'm barely on social media still but what's new :p  
> Twitter: @UJinblossoms  
> Instagram: @suncovered.snow  
> Tumblr: @frenchblue32


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